Questions and a Lack of Immediate Answers
by ghost-of-a-scarecrow
Summary: What's happened to Tommy? When he's found bloody and beaten in an alley, why won't he let the other Solomons go outside without Sally? And what's this big secret the family's keeping from Alissa? No slash. Slight A/U, not really noticeable. Please R&R.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Hello to those who decide to read, this is a story that kind of cropped up out of nowhere in my mind, hope you like it. There will be updates if it gets a good reception (it helps to know my story is being read). I've tried to keep the characters as much like themselves as I can, but unfortunately I'm not overly familiar with Alissa's character, so she may be a little off - or a lot. So far as I know, the characters have never been in a situation such as this, so I'm basically imagining how they'd act. It probably won't be perfect. The story is set at a time when Tommy is still in high school; he's broken up with August, and is now dating Alissa. This is quite a while after 'Alien Hunter'. Now this is the messed up part: Albright knows they're aliens, (she found out in the same way as the series finale) but the Solomons never left. Anyhow, enjoy it, and let me know what you think.**

**Prologue**

"I saw him at school today," she said, wedging the phone between her shoulder and her ear, using her freed hand to stir the batter while she held the bowl with the other.

"I've already called the school," Sally's voice returned from the other end of the line. "Do you think he could be at August's house?"

"No, no way. They just had a fight on Monday." Alissa answered. She added a heaping cup of chocolate chips to the batter. "How about I call you back if I find something out?"

"All right," Sally said quickly and Alissa heard the click of the phone hitting the receiver. She laid the spoon and bowl down on the shining grey counter and massaged her temples. Where could he be? He seemed fine at school, his usual undecided and extremely-educated-in-the-field-of-everything-but-social-interaction self. Well, at least he wasn't very good at socializing in school. She had no idea what he acted like apart from what she'd seen with herself and his family. They were a weird family...

She picked up the bowl again and continued mixing, her mind elsewhere. Maybe he just wanted to get away from the house. She did that sometimes... in the middle of the night, when her father wouldn't be watching. She just liked to walk around Rutherford, no cares, just the stars to keep her company. Maybe that's what Tommy was up to, except in the early evening rather than night. Sally shouldn't be worrying so much. It's a teenage thing. But Alissa still resolved to keep her ears open for any news. And if she went out tonight, she'd keep her eyes open, too.


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hope the characters' personalities are up to par. Any comments or tactful constructive criticisms are greatly appreciated.**

Sally hung up the phone in a huff. He wasn't at Alissa's, he wasn't at August's, he wasn't at school, and for all she knew, he didn't have any more friends. Maybe he went back to the old folk's home to play gin with the old guys there. She'd call them next. She picked up the phone once again and began to dial, remembering a little late that she didn't know the number after punching in the area code. She pushed the phone deliberately back into the receiver, letting the boiling anger rise out for a moment. Where was that aged little twerp? Dick had an assignment for him! And just to add to her fuming pleasure, Dick had asked her to find Tommy while the 'great and wonderful High Commander' took Albright out to dinner! Everything was Albright with that man! And Sally got the sneaking feeling that Dick's girlfriend was really enjoying this Lieutenant's pains. She wandered into the sofa-less living room in search of a phone book, taking no time to grace Harry with a glance as he numbly watched the television. A few more brain cells would surely be dead by the time he looked away. She shuffled through papers and magazines, toppled stacks of books that had managed to become precariously piled on top of her shoe rack in the closet, and even lifted up the two chairs in turn (one of which Harry was still obliviously perched upon).

"Harry, where's the phone book?" No answer.

"Harry!" Harry jumped at the sudden brisk tone, staring into Sally's increasingly frustrated face with those squinty eyes of his.

"Ooooooh, the phone book," Harry said. "Haven't seen it." Sally let out an angry sigh and flopped down on the cushiony chair beside Harry's. He was watching some sort of dramatic hospital show. The skinny nurse was barely keeping her cool as the incredibly hunky doctor performed surgery on a patient. The nurse said something strange along the lines of, "_Doctor, just in case this patient doesn't live, I want you to know... I love you!" _Sally rolled her eyes. Who wrote the screenplay? The patient's survival had nothing to do with her love for the guy. Unless, of course, the doctor's surgical performance was enhanced by the knowledge. That idea went down the drain when on the television, the hunky and muscular doctor stopped what he was doing, and wrapped the nurse in his bulging arms to kiss her.

"This is ridiculous," she mumbled to the room in general.

"I know," Harry said. "They call it a 'soap opera' and I haven't even seen the guy wash his hands."

Harry's voice knocked her back into reality, and she jumped from the chair, having forgotten her search for the phone book. Then it hit her. _Dick's room_. She barged through the door and looked around. She checked under the bed. Nothing but a pair of dusty pink bunny slippers and few things she would have rather not seen. Turning her head from the underside of the bed in disgust, she saw it. The phone book! She crawled from the bed to the nightstand situated across the room. Why the stand wasn't by the bed, she'd never know, but the phone book was there. It was there, propping up one leg of the nightstand that certainly didn't need propping up. Why the hell didn't he use one of his own books? Why use the phone book when all he was doing with his creepy novels was piling them unceremoniously on top of her shoe rack? She yanked the phone book out from under the well-polished wooden nightstand leg and watched with satisfaction as the contents atop it toppled. Returning to the kitchen, she noted the fact that the doctor and nurse were still smooching on the screen as Harry sat glued to the scene. The patient was probably dead by now.

Once again in the kitchen, she set the book on the table and painstakingly turned the pages one by one until she found the right number. Lifting the phone from its place of temporary rest, she dialled carefully so as not to get it wrong, and listened to it ring. Once... twice... thrice... "Hello?"

"Hi, this is Sally Solomon, is Tommy there?"

"Just a moment." Sally waited for what she decided was far more than a moment before the lady came back to the conversation. "I'm sorry, there's no one by the name of 'Tommy' signed in. Was he supposed to check in today?"

"No, lady, he was supposed to get his sorry butt back home hours ago!" Sally practically yelled into the phone. She slammed it back into the receiver and slumped down onto one of the kitchen chairs, slouching over the table as she rested her forehead in her hands.

"_Oh, doctor, you're so wonderful! The patient pulled through!"_

Sally sighed.

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><p>Tommy opened his eyes slowly, groggily taking in the metallic smell that instantly clogged his nose. It was dark out, but when he raised a hand to swipe at the warm,<br>wet liquid running down the side of his face, he saw the deep redness covering his hand when he drew it back. _Great, that's just great_, he thought. He attempted to  
>pull himself up from the ground, but a searing pain shooting out from his left shoulder stopped his progress. Not to mention the dizziness he felt at the mere thought of standing. He fell back down painfully, knocking a few stray cans aside to clatter down the alley in which he found himself. It was dirty, cold, and he couldn't place the<br>origins of every ache and pain he felt, but it was far better than where he'd been before.

Far better.

He lay curled on his right side, trying to staunch the flow of blood that emanated from his shoulder and torso. If he could only stand, he could get back to the apartment. Sally was an excellent medic. She prided herself on her warrior skills, but as a warrior, she'd had training in the field of medicine. He preferred her to just any random person finding him. If he was brought to a hospital, the doctors would know something was up from the shape of the cuts that adorned his chest. They weren't the kind of cuts one would get from a mugging in the streets. He shifted ever so slightly, and the pain caught him up again. These human bodies were so weak. He found himself questioning once again why they chose such unstable forms when they landed on this planet. Wouldn't it have been better to observe the humans from a distance under the guise of a house pet? He shivered, though he wasn't sure whether it was from pain, cold, or the thought of spending his time on earth either barking or meowing at people for seemingly no reason at all.

He turned his thoughts away from the ones he knew would remind him of where he was, and in doing so, he inadvertently reminded himself that he was in an alley in an undisclosed area of Rutherford. Or at least, he hoped it was Rutherford. Trying once again to stand up, he made it to his knees, panting heavily and spitting blood onto the rough pavement. He coughed a few times, trying to keep both his head and lungs clear, and laid a hand on his shoulder. He winced as he pressed down on the wound, and breathed deeply, resulting in another bout of coughing. He couldn't remember a time that he'd ever been so weak, and he'd had a lot of years to chance it.

Lifting one leg from under him, he tested his weight on his foot. Replacing it underneath himself, he lifted his other leg and did the same. The involuntary cry escaped him before he could suppress it, and he sat down half cross-legged against the wall, his left foot sticking out in a strange direction. His ankle had swollen to an unsightly size, and just then did he realize why he could hardly feel his foot. What the hell had they done to him? It was one thing to beat on a guy when he's aware, but to do it when he's out of it completely? He tried desperately to stop his shaking hands, but he couldn't. He coughed again, this time a little more violently. He couldn't control the shivering, and the blood loss coupled with the sheer agony present in this blasted alien body was really getting to him. Dark shadows blotted out his vision, threatening to make the night darker than it was, and the last thing he remembered before passing out was a bright light flashing briefly into his face.


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: Very sorry for the long wait, exams and such annoyances plaguing me at the moment, and I'm working on a couple of other fan fiction that are in need of updating… so please forgive my lack of punctuality. Anyhow, enjoy the chapter, and I will make an attempt at a prompt update. Thank you for your reviews and adding this story to your alerts! But enough of my attempt at a formally written author's note, let's get on with the story!**

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Alissa silently donned her jacket and unlocked the front door. Slipping outside, she nearly jumped out of her socks when the porch light flickered on, casting a streaking yellow glow throughout the yard. She bolted across the lawn and down the road at top speed, not bothering to look back as she careened across the street to the opposite sidewalk. She slowed to a jog when she got to the corner's sorely abused stop sign, and pulled the straps of her backpack higher up on her shoulders. She'd packed it just in case she saw Tommy. She didn't know what to expect, so she'd packed something for every scenario she could think of. Sally hadn't called, so she assumed Tommy was still missing. She'd stuffed some food, a water bottle, a flashlight, a utility knife, a first aid kit, a blanket, and bottle of antiseptic that she hadn't found in the first aid kit into the now overstuffed bag. She didn't want to think that Tommy would've gotten into a rough spot with anyone, but if he had any cuts, it was best to clean them up quickly. Maybe he'd met up with Seth Peters on the way home from school. Tommy could hold his own against any kid in the high school, but there was a rumour going around that Seth had recently acquired a set of brass knuckles.

She meandered down the vacant sidewalk, contemplating the mysteries and secrets the night's shadows could hold. Hardly a car passed down the road this late, and the street always looked so void of life and the bustle of living that came with it. Her shoes scuffed softly at the pavement as she walked, and she had the sudden urge to step out into the middle of the road. When her feet reached the double yellow lines, her whole perspective of the world around her changed in one brief, lucid instant. She couldn't place exactly why, but the expanse of empty road on either side of her made her feel vulnerable, excited, small, and rebellious all at once. Those were only a small portion of the feelings that overwhelmed her senses at the simple act of stepping out into the street. It all reminded her of dreams, and how they felt on the brink of consciousness; when you don't want to let go, but you know the real world will catch up with you eventually. She didn't know why, it just did. After another minute or so, she brought herself back to the task at hand. She had something important to do.

Where should she start? School seemed like the proper place, just in case it had been Seth. She turned down the next road and headed east towards the school. She hated this road; it was so creepy – even during the day – and chock-full of disgusting and darkened alleys that could hide anything foul in their depths. Shoving her hand into her backpack, she pulled out the small flashlight and switched it on with her thumb, shining it into each of the frightening alleys as she passed. At any moment, something could pounce out at her with snarling viciousness and drooling yellow dental fixtures. What was she thinking? That wasn't even a possibility. Monsters didn't exist, she knew that. To calm her nerves, she took to listing all of the non-existent stuff of legend: ghosts, dragons, goblins, witches, monsters, aliens, talking trees...

A clatter sounded in one of the alleys ahead. She froze, switching off the flashlight so she wouldn't be seen. Maybe it was already too late; maybe whatever it was had already seen her. What was that clawing shadow? Just a tree... of course. Why was she so freaked out? Perhaps it was the creeping motion of the tree's limbs in the slightest wind; the dots of light that the moon cast over the scene creeping ever closer... She clutched her backpack tightly and listened with a mix of fear and curiosity – mostly fear – for further noises. The sound of a hacking cough met her ears, and she knelt to the ground, apprehensive now rather than consumed by an unknown panic. She set her pack on the pavement and slowly unzipped it, reaching in to pull out the small red utility knife. The coughing started up again – worse than before – followed by the noise of a pain-filled cry and more clattering. She shouldered her backpack, and slinked quietly towards the alley the sound had come from. Keeping the knife slightly concealed and taking note of the lack of further noise to meet her ears, she crept along with the flashlight tucked under her arm. When she reached the dreaded alley, she flipped on the flashlight, drenching the narrow stretch of pavement and bricks with its glow.

What she saw was Tommy, and that was perhaps the scariest thing she'd ever seen.

He was lying on his side with his back to the wall of the building; his dark blue shirt drowned in what she assumed was his own blood. She picked her way through the scattered trash and splashes of red that lined the pavement and knelt down beside him. How long had he been here? She wished that she had come earlier, that her father had gone to sleep sooner so she could sneak out. She considered placing the blame on him, for keeping her home so long, but she realized how ridiculous that was. It wasn't going to help her boyfriend.

She laid a tentative hand on his shoulder. He was shivering uncontrollably, and when she pulled her hand away it was coated in crimson.

"Tommy?" No answer.

"Tommy, please, can you hear me?" she asked again, gently shaking his arm. Still nothing. She tried to remain composed, but couldn't quite keep the flood of emotions from escaping through the look in her eyes. Not that anyone was around, or aware, enough to notice.

Searching for the source of the sluggish flow of blood, she attempted to lay him on his back, but flinched back when she realized that she didn't know what the injuries were, and what moving him might do to them. She knew how to take care of a few cuts and bruises, a cold, the flu, several children for a night – but this was completely out of her league. Instead, she pressed two fingers to his neck and felt desperately for a pulse, scaring herself further when she found it irregular. She kept her fingers there for a few more seconds, convincing herself that the pulse she found was real; she wasn't about to lose him. Snapping herself back into reality, she scrambled to pull the blanket out of her backpack and lay it gently on top of him, trying to decide what she should do next. The emotions she felt played a merciless game of tug-of-war in her stomach, fighting each other with fangs that gnashed at her conscience and tugged the sense right out of her. She took a deep breath. What was the most logical thing to do at this point? _Come on, Alissa,_ she thought,_ think of something, it shouldn't be that hard! How many crime shows do you watch in a day? A lot, exactly._ Another thought wrestled its way into her mind. _But when they find the people on those shows, they're already dead..._ The thought made her shiver. She made a silent and solemn vow never to watch those shows again. But her little train of memories hadn't left her completely helpless.

Call someone. A plain and simple solution, and they were right down the road from the school pay phones.

"Tommy, I'll be right back," she said quietly – though she knew he couldn't hear her – then turned and bolted from the alley.


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait, folks, but once again, exams are making my time a lot less bountiful. There's also the subject of other fanfics I'm in the midst of writing, but that's really not much of an excuse. So, as a mid-exam gift, I present to you the next chapter!**

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><p>By the time she reached the public phones outside of the high school, Alissa was breathing heavily, taking in as much oxygen as possible before picking up the phone. Inserting a few quarters, she dialled the Solomon's number and waited impatiently for an answer, leaning heavily against the brick wall. She knew it was late, and they'd probably be in bed, and if that was the case, she'd just keep trying. As such, she was surprised when Sally answered after the first ring.<p>

"Hello?" Sally asked. She sounded a bit tired, and if Alissa wasn't mistaken, annoyed.

"Sally, it's Alissa," she said quickly, pushing herself upright, "I'm at the high school. Tommy's hurt, you have to come!" she couldn't keep the panic from rising in her voice as she spoke.

"Hurt? From what?" Sally responded after a moment. The annoyance was gone, but she didn't sound overly concerned.

"I don't know, I just found him like that, and I-I can't... I don't know what to do!"

"All right, all right, just stay calm, and stay with him. It's probably not too serious. Where exactly is he?"

"Um... Cumberland Road, I'll leave the flashlight on."

"I'll be right there." And with that, she heard a click on the other end of the line. Alissa paused momentarily, then hung up the phone in hast and started running back. Then a thought struck her that almost made her stop in her tracks. Why hadn't she just called 911? Why had she called the Solomons for help? It didn't seem to make much sense, and yet, it made all the sense in the world. She shook her head. She'd think about it later, she had other things to worry about.

She stepped back into the dark alley, splashing the stillness with light. She lay the flashlight down on the pavement, the beam facing the road. Walking over to Tommy, she sat down beside him and placed her hand over his shoulder, leaning back against the rough wall and closed her eyes as she listened to the sound of Tommy's ragged breathing. She tried hard to remind herself that Sally was coming. _Please hurry_.

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><p>Sally snatched up a blanket from Tommy's bed and headed for the stairs. Harry still sat unaware in his chair, now watching the shopping channel.<p>

"Where are you goin'?" he asked as she passed him, without turning around.

"Alissa found Tommy," she said. "I'm taking the Rambler."

"Tell him I said 'hi'," Harry said.

"Sure..." suddenly, she was feeling a little apprehensive. It couldn't be too serious, could it? Humans always overreacted. But there was something about the innocence of Harry's comment that made her think that whatever Alissa was so worried about couldn't be quite so innocent.

"Want to come?" At that, Harry turned in his overstuffed chair and squinted up at her.

"Why?"

"Because..." then a smile crept its way over her features. "Harry," she said. "You want to go in the car, Harry? Want to go for a ride in the car?" Harry jumped up from the chair and started begging like a puppy. He let his tongue hang from his mouth, panting with genuine enthusiasm.

"C'mon, Harry, let's go out to the car!" she said, backing towards the stairs, beckoning him to come. He barked and got to his feet, following in a stumbling manner as she ran down the stairs. She made it to the Rambler only moments before he dived headfirst into the back seat. He righted himself and sat up straight, slowly looking around in confusion.

"Heeey, how did I get in the Rambler?" he asked.

"You said you wanted to come, Harry" Sally lied.

"Ooooooh," Harry thought a moment. "You used that reverse mind-trick stuff on me again, didn't you!" It was more of an accusation than a question. "Admit it!"

"No, Harry, of course not. Now sit!" she answered as she turned the key in the ignition, stepping on the gas. Harry complied immediately. They flew out of the driveway, and Sally completely disregarded the speed limit for the next four blocks as Harry held on for dear life.

"Oh, quit being a backseat driver!" she yelled over her shoulder when he started to complain. She pressed her foot down harder on the gas pedal, then screeched to a halt when red and blue lights began to flash in the rear-view mirror, throwing Harry into the front of the car between her and the passenger seat. She heard the door of the black and white cruiser slam shut behind her, and the hair on the back of her neck began to bristle in a pleasant manner.

"Don."

"Sally, what are you doing out so late?" he asked, then added as sort of an afterthought, "A-and speeding?" Sally decided this would be a good time to turn on the charm.

"I'm going to pick up Tommy, Don," she said in her most sensual voice. "Will you... join my little... mission?" She used the pauses for effect, placing her arm daintily on the door of the car and giving him a whopping dose of the 'pouty lips'. She watched in satisfaction as he struggled to maintain a hold on his duties; to forget her long, slender legs; the perfectly manicured blonde hair; the silky...

"A-all right Sally, I'll come," he said weakly. Then, restoring a little of his authoritative cop voice, he said, "But don't expect to get out of a ticket so easily next time." And he strolled back to his cruiser and fumbled with the door a moment before managing to pull it open. Sally gunned the engine of the Rambler, and took off, much slower this time. They were nearly to Cumberland road anyhow.

She turned the Rambler onto said street with caution, scanning each murky alley carefully before she saw it – the faint glow of a flashlight seeping into the darkness of the road. She parked the Rambler where it was and, grabbing the blanket, hopped out. Harry followed close behind, having dislodged himself from his previous entrapment. Behind her, the cruiser door slammed, and Don came puffing up beside them. Not one second later, the flashlight's glow flickered, and Alissa came running from the alley, beckoning them to hurry. Sally quickened her pace to oblige, and Alissa disappeared back into whence she'd come. Sally picked up the flashlight as she passed it, taking in the scene.

The strangest emotion overtook her then. She couldn't place it. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of the old man that she had come to know as her nephew. She'd seen carnage, she'd seen death, heck, she'd even seen an abandoned planet blow up before her eyes, but she couldn't seem to grasp this without her knees buckling and a sinking feeling in her stomach. She didn't know what it was, and it freaked her out. It was these blasted human slipcovers; they came with so many unexplainable attachments. The way Alissa was looking at her, she could tell the weird emotion she was getting was plainly displayed on her face.

Right now, she just needed to get Tommy home. She knelt beside his still form, pulling Alissa's blanket away and taking note of the heavy, irregular breathing. She put a hand to her mouth at the sight of his bloodied torso, then hastened to wrap him in the blanket she'd brought, advising Alissa to leave the now crimson-blotched one where it was. Then she picked Tommy up in her arms, and carried him out towards the Rambler. Don and Harry had been waiting in the street. Don, because he probably figured he wouldn't have been able to fit; Harry, because he most likely decided that an army of green monkeys would attack him if he went in. But the stricken looks on their faces when she walked out with Tommy held unconscious in her arms told her they must be feeling the same strange sensation.

When she reached the Rambler, Sally laid Tommy in the back seat as gently as she was capable, and Harry climbed in after, resting Tommy's head on his lap. It must be instinctual, the feeling. Why else would Harry do that? It had to be a built-in function that came with the human bodies they now resided in. She'd talk to Dick about it later. _Dick. Bet he's having just a dandy time with Albright. Wouldn't be surprised if they rented a room at a hotel for the night..._ she thought to herself. It wasn't until she opened the door to the front seat and came out of her reverie that she noticed Alissa had followed Harry and her to the car.

"Can I come?" the teen asked, stealing glances in Tommy's direction. Sally sighed.

"Get in!" she said forcefully. She was coming to the end of her patience capabilities. Alissa's eyes widened, but she half-smiled and got into the passenger's side, shoving her backpack under her feet. Sally drove away from Cumberland, back towards their attic apartment. She didn't drive quite as quickly this time, afraid that the shock of the car jerking forward would jar Tommy's injuries if it hit something. Alissa kept looking into the back seat, where Harry sat quietly with that same expression that neither of the aliens could place.


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N: Terribly sorry for the long wait, I'll try to keep a little more up-to date with this from now on. But thank you for your patience, anyhow. Please read, enjoy, and review!**

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><p>Minutes later, the Rambler and cruiser rolled into the driveway. Don scrambled out of the car to help Sally lift her nephew from the back seat as Alissa ran to the door, opening it wide to let the others through. She followed them up, careful not to trip in her haste. She felt completely useless at this point, not to mention tired. It was getting close to two in the morning and she hadn't gotten much rest. Sally walked into Tommy's room, and set him down on the bed. Alissa stayed in the kitchen with Don and Harry, not wanting to intrude, even though she really wanted to know what was happening with her boyfriend.<p>

"Will he be all right?" She asked Harry, not really expecting him to know the answer. But even if it was a well-placed lie, she needed something, _anything,_ just to calm herself down.

"Of course he will," Don answered in an overly-confident tone when Harry remained silent. Don must have sensed her anxiety. Harry joined Sally in Tommy's room. Alissa pulled out a kitchen chair from the table and sat down, listening to them talk in hushed tones in the other room. After a minute or so, she heard a loud gasp from Sally, and she rushed into Tommy's room. Harry was standing at the head of the bed, watching as Sally leaned over Tommy, examining his bloody chest and arm. At the sight of all the blood, Alissa couldn't keep herself from gasping herself. Sally and Harry spun to see her leaning against the doorframe. Oops. Sally hastily pulled the sheets up to Tommy's chin, hiding the injuries from sight.

"Hey, what's she doing in here?" Harry asked Sally, as if Alissa wasn't there to answer for herself. But what she expected to be an angry retort from Sally didn't come out that way.

"It doesn't matter, Harry. I'll need to get some things from the store. Alissa, come here."

Alissa was slightly hesitant to obey, but did nonetheless. There was something about the authority in Sally's tone that told her she wasn't going to take no for an answer. As she approached, Tommy started coughing; causing Sally to turn and hold his head up so Harry could place a couple of pillows beneath it. Her boyfriend's eyes were open slightly, but he looked pale and weak, and the hand he raised to the gash on his head shook uncontrollably. Harry gently lifted the shaking hand from the wound, forcing it back; talking to Tommy in baby-ish tones that Alissa was sure would have been rewarded with a smart retort from Tommy if he had been completely aware. Sally straightened herself up and walked out of the room. Alissa heard her speaking with Don, and then Sally left for the store.

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><p>He woke to a throbbing headache, and lifted his hand to make an attempt at suppressing it, but his arm was held back. He didn't bother trying again; he was still too groggy to make an honest attempt. It took his mind another minute or so to register the other aches and pains that consumed his body. When it did, it was like being hit by a ton of baseballs that have just been thrown at you by a circle of self-righteous jocks. How did he know? He'd had a ton of baseballs thrown at him by a circle of self-righteous jocks before. He winced at the memory, then once again at the physical resemblance he was living through in the present. Except this was far worse.<p>

He came close to falling unconscious once again, but managed to fight against it, no matter how good it sounded. Even though he had opened his eyes – with some difficulty – he couldn't quite make out who the people around him were. After a couple of educated guesses, he figured that the one holding his arm down had to be Harry. He could feel the furry jacket rubbing against his skin. The large one had to be Don – he didn't know anyone else that would fit the size of the figure he had discerned through the haze in his eyes. The last one... he couldn't figure out who it was. It had to be someone he knew. The strain he was giving his eyes made him feel a little too tired for his liking, so he closed them momentarily.

He opened them again to see Sally standing over him with a clean, wet towel in one hand, and a bowl full of near-crimson water in the other. Great, he had let himself pass out again.

"Hey, are you awake for good this time?" Sally said, in a rather baby-ish voice. He just stared at her blankly, wondering for a moment if she'd forgotten she was the younger of the two of them. She looked a little concerned at his lack of response. "Can you hear me?"

"Of course I can hear you," his voice sounded hoarse, and burned in his throat. He suddenly felt very thirsty. But a drink at this point didn't seem very appetizing.

"He sounds awful," an unidentified, yet familiar voice spoke up.

"Thank you, it's how I feel," he said to the unknown in the room. Two seconds later he broke into a coughing fit; it was as if his body really wanted to drive the point home. He came out of it sitting up and gasping for air. It was then that he noticed his shirt had been taken off and his wounds washed out. It was odd, really, that he hadn't noticed it before. He should have figured it out prior to now, having had all of the evidence right there in front of him. Suddenly, he couldn't keep himself from the feeling of nausea that washed over him. He hated feeling weak. He fell back on the pillows, head spinning and wishing that this human body would just go ahead and heal already.

"Alissa, you should probably leave," Sally said, a hand on Tommy's uninjured shoulder to keep him from moving again; not that he particularly wanted to. The pain in the simple task of sitting up had been as sharp as ten daggers in his chest. When Alissa began to protest Sally just pointed to the door, and he just barely registered her absence.

Tommy's 'aunt' picked up a bottle from the floor beside the bed, and Harry clenched Tommy's good arm a little tighter when Tommy tensed up. He hated antiseptic. He had no idea why, but he hated it.


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: Well, I seriously thought that I'd actually posted this chapter, but apparently not… Well, anywho, this is the next chapter! Finally! I'll probably have to watch a few episodes of 3****rd**** Rock From the Sun to really get back into this story. Please forgive my extreme tardiness when it comes to chapter-posting, I'm terrible for it. There's a reference to one of Joseph Gordon-Levitt's first acting gigs in this chapter, I couldn't resist putting it in…**

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><p>Alissa walked from the room, the bowl of sterilizing liquid clutched shakily between her fingers. It was of a slightly different hue than when she had gone in. Setting it on the table, she sat down in a chair. That was the worst thing she had ever had to witness. She could hear Tommy breathing heavily in the next room, his wounds probably stinging like hell under the gauze and bandages. The whole ordeal had taken quite a toll on him if she wasn't mistaken. She held her head in her hands. Sally entered the kitchen minutes later.<p>

"Don, could you go watch Tommy for me with Harry?"

"Sure thing, Sally." Don left the room.

"Go wait in the living room, I've got to make a call," Sally told Alissa bluntly as she made to wash her hands of the crusting mix of liquids. She'd made it clear that she was not impressed by Alissa's lack of stomach while treating Tommy, and Alissa wondered how in the world Tommy's _aunt_ had built up the stomach to take it. Alissa obliged without complaint, not wanting to get any further onto Sally's bad side.

Walking into the living room, she sat on one of the very cushiony chairs and stared blankly at the television. Perhaps if she turned it on, it would numb her mind enough with the senselessness of night time talk shows that she could forget the whole ordeal for a while. She snatched the remote from the coffee table and turned it on. Instantly, an ad for Pop-Tarts sprang up from the hazy blackness on the screen. A kid was telling his father to eat his breakfast, describing the perks of Pop-Tarts before sending his father out the door. It was kind of cute, the way the kid treated his father like the father should be treating the kid. Unfortunately, it reminded her of the way Tommy lectured Dick on occasion. The first time he'd done it, she couldn't really tell what was going on. Kids never spoke to their parents like that. Even if they did, the parents never listened so raptly as if the subject was of global interest. After a while, she just accepted it as another of the family's strange habits.

By this time the commercial had ended, replaced by the actual program. It was a soap opera. Yuck. Why did they even call it a soap opera anyway? She switched the channel. Some sort strange yodelling music rose from the speakers, and she scrambled to switch off the television. She decided she'd just sit quietly in her chair and brood on the moral ethics of girls her age being bullied because they have a zit on their nose. As she sat and thought quietly, she caught snippets of Sally's mumbling into the phone.

"...no excuse, Dick, I..." "...he's not..." "...then take Albright with..." "...just get back here..." So she had called Dick. From what Alissa could gather, he was at Mary Albright's house. Probably sleeping with her. What else would he be doing there at four in the morning?

"No!" Tommy's voice made her jump out of her seat and run into the kitchen.

"Hang on a second, Dick," Sally said, then left the phone hanging by the cord and walked into Tommy's room. Alissa followed her to the door and peeked into the dark.

"Why not, Tommy?" Sally asked gently, kneeling down beside the bed. He was still breathing heavily, but she wasn't sure if it was still from the pain or from the newfound worry evident in his eyes.

"If Dick comes back... you have to pick him up. Don't let him come on his own..." he said.

"Why?"

"Just... trust me." Tommy said, glancing in Alissa's direction. Whatever it was, it wasn't meant for her to hear. She felt a slight rise of anger in the pit of her stomach, but suppressed it. He could have his secrets if he wanted to. After all, she had her own.

"I think you'd better trust him," Harry said in a matter-of-factly tone. Sally glanced at him, slightly annoyed, but turned back to Tommy with a kinder face.

"All right, I'll go pick him up. Whether he wants me to or not." Sally rose and walked back to the phone, hardly glancing at Alissa as she passed. Picking it up once again, she spoke in the most authoritative voice Alissa had ever heard her use before. Where was Tommy's aunt getting this from? She was acting like an army general.

"Dick, I'm coming over to pick you up. Bring Albright if you want, but you're coming home whether you like it or not!" Sally slammed the phone down on the receiver, snatched her coat from the counter and stormed out the door.

Alissa stared after her for a moment, mind completely blank. A couple of questions crossed her mind, such as why Sally had to pick up Dick, and why Tommy hadn't wanted her to know. It was most likely familial reasons. With that supposition in mind, she didn't find it so strange anymore that he'd hesitated. They were a very, _very_ odd family. Very messed-up, too. From past experiences, she'd gathered that Dick wasn't Tommy's real father, Sally used to be a lesbian, Harry was a cured alcoholic, Tommy used to wet the bed (he told her that Dick had stopped beating him, and so he didn't have to wear pull-ups anymore), Dick had an ego larger than the world itself, and the family ran like a poorly organized military division. The last one she'd figured out through months of observation as Tommy's girlfriend. There were also the times when the family just didn't seem to _know_ about certain aspects of common life, but she often passed it off as immaturity in Tommy's case, Dick's ignorance due to his ego, Sally's obsession with her boyfriend, and Harry's apparent retardation. But now, those assumptions didn't seem so straight-and-narrow anymore. Perhaps it was the circumstances, but it seemed to her that there was something other than the traditional familial love at play here.

She realized that she had been staring at the doorframe. She blinked a couple of times before coming out of her reverie, shaking her head.

"Alissa?" she heard Tommy's voice ask. She looked in his direction; Harry had left the room and Don was back in the kitchen making a call to an unknown recipient. She hadn't even noticed them leave.

"You all right?" her boyfriend asked. She walked over to the bed and sat herself down on the edge of it.

"That's what I should be asking you," she said. She was surprised when he almost laughed.

"Nah, I'm fine," he said with a slight wave of the hand. "What were you thinking about?"

"Just thinking. You sure you're okay?" She attempted to pull down the sheets enough to see how bad the cuts that riddled his chest were. She knew they were there, but hadn't been allowed to see just how bad they were. When Tommy clutched the sheets closer, she guessed she wasn't about to find out.

"Tommy, I promise I won't retch or anything," she started, but the look he gave her told her not to press any further on the matter. She sighed. After a moment's silence, Tommy spoke up.

"There's something I want to tell you... but I can't. Sally'd kill me if I did. She practically disowned Dick when he told Albright."

"What, is it some sort of family secret?"

"Something like that." They sat again in silence. She saw him wince when he touched the bandage that covered the gash on his head, and she did as Harry had and moved his arm away.

"Headache?" she asked. He nodded slightly. The silence was comfortable – not in the least bit awkward – but it was also a little disconcerting. Every few seconds she was afraid she'd turn around to see him unconscious again. His breathing was so impeccably controlled at this point that it seemed unnatural. It suddenly occurred to her that he was hiding the pain he was in from her, and he was doing a very good job of it. How was he managing this so well? If it were her she'd be writhing.

"Why don't you try to sleep?" she suggested as she stood. She didn't want to cause him any more discomfort than he was already in by keeping the pain from her view. She walked out of his room, glancing in the direction of Don, who was still speaking to the unknown on the phone. She suddenly felt tired. Glancing at the clock, she barely registered the numbers as she dragged herself into the living room and into a chair beside Harry. It was quiet, and comfortable, and she soon found herself nodding off as she listened to the quiet murmuring of the television set in front of her.

"_I can't love you, Doctor. Not after what happened. That patient died because of your negligence, and I could never love a man who doesn't care._"


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N: Well, here ya go, another chapter. Hope it's up to par; I'm not too sure about it myself. Anywho, enjoy! The plot'll hopefully move along a bit faster in the next installment.**

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><p>Pulling into Albright's driveway was made ten times harder by the fact that Albright's car took up the entire space, Albright having parked it on an angle for some unfathomable reason. So Sally took the liberty of smashing into the side of it. She knew she'd pay for it later (literally), but right now she was still struggling to keep this weird emotion under control. Maybe Albright would know what it was. She stepped out of the Rambler and hopped over Albright's car, then practically busted the door in with her knocking. Why was she so angry? But, it wasn't really <em>anger<em> per say, it was like a deep rooted feeling that made her angry and sad, worried and vengeful; it made her feel like both a mother and a soldier at the same time.

Dick swung the door wide, causing Sally to hit him in the face with her fist as she brought it down for another knock. Her commander recoiled and held a hand to his nose.

"Sally!"

"Dick!" They glared at each other for a while, until Albright came up behind Dick and looked outside.

"Hello Sally," she said in that annoyingly pleasant voice of hers.

"Hi, Albright. Let's go." Sally said bluntly, grabbing Dick by the collar of the suit he'd evidently just thrown on. To her chagrin, Albright followed. Oh well, she had a right to, she was part of the family now whether Sally liked it or not.

"Sally, we've been through this. She's not 'Albright' anymore." Dick complained.

"Whatever. Get in the car, Albright." Sally shoved Dick into the passenger seat and climbed into the Rambler herself, waiting impatiently for the high commander's girlfriend to get into the back.

"Oh my God!" Albright exclaimed, noticing for the first time that the side of her car was dented in completely. "My car!"

"Very nice, now let's go!" Sally practically shouted. Her patience was already worn thin, broken, and tossed out the window, and she didn't have time to listen to Albright's complaints.

"But you ran into my car!"

"Don't you have insurance? Tommy's dying right now and all you can think about is your car! Seems like a pretty trivial matter at the moment! _Now get your ass in the car_ or I'm leaving without you!" And she gunned the engine a couple of times as the terrified Albright scrambled into the back as quickly as she could, then took off down the road. It took her a couple of seconds to notice how Dick was looking at her, a mix of emotions fighting for dominance across his features.

"What?" she said.

"I-is that true? Is Tommy really dying?"

"I don't know! It's hard to tell with these bodies, they're so... weak and unpredictable. He didn't look too good when I left, but he could talk, anyway."

"I hope he's all right," Dick said meekly. Sally willed the Rambler to go faster, and three and a half blocks later they were pulling into the driveway. Before Sally even had the chance to turn off the engine, Dick had leapt from the car and bolted into the apartment. Sally was very tempted to do the same, but she had to keep her composure. She was a military lieutenant after all. Parking the car carefully, she waited until Albright had exited the car before she followed her into the building. Coming to the top of the stairs, she saw Dick in Tommy's room, kneeling beside the bed. He looked more worried about this than she'd ever seen him. He must have that strange feeling too.

"Sally! I think he's dead!" Dick exclaimed when Sally walked over.

"No, Dick, he's sleeping," she answered. "Leave him be." Albright walked over a minute later.

"Oh my God, what happened?" She put a hand over her mouth in shock.

"Don't know," Sally answered. "Hey Albright, what's this weird feeling? I haven't felt it before."

"Is it like a mixture of shock, anger, vengefulness, and an excess of worry?" Dick asked.

"Yeah."

"Well, I feel it too! It's so strange..."

"Well, you summed it up nicely, Dick," Albright said. "It doesn't really have a particular word to go with it, it's just a feeling you can't quite describe."

"Well that helped," Sally said sarcastically in return. She pulled away the sheets to check on the cuts and various bruises that had begun to blossom about his stomach and face, as well as show Dick what they were dealing with. Dick's eyes widened as the nature of the cuts were revealed.

"Someone tried to vivisect him..." he said in a near-whisper.

"Someone knows, Dick." Sally said.

"Who?"

"How am I supposed to know?" she said. She couldn't fathom why she hadn't asked Tommy when he was awake. She wanted him to rest, maybe. And he _was_ in a lot of pain... He'd been through worse than this before, though. Then again, the bodies they'd been inhabiting at the time were stronger and had a much higher tolerance for pain than these.

Tommy woke up moments later, a bit disturbed to see them all standing around and staring.

"Uh, Dick, when did you get here?" He asked in not much more than a whisper.

"A few minutes ago. What happened?" Tommy glanced around at the question. He looked as if he were about to answer, but Alissa entered the room, rubbing her eyes sleepily. Sally quickly pulled the sheets back up over the incisions, and they all turned around to meet her eyes. Alissa looked taken aback at the gesture.

"I'm, uh, I'll just... okay..." she mumbled as she sidled back into the living room.

"Dick, can we tell her?" Tommy asked. It took a moment for Sally to realize what he was asking.

"No, definitely not!" She said quickly before Dick could answer. "It's bad enough that Albright knows! No offense..." Albright rolled her eyes in answer. Tommy sighed, wincing slightly, though he quickly tried to cover it up. Sally was expecting him to attempt an argument, but he remained silent. In fact, he looked as though he was going to fall asleep on them again. Sally forcefully ushered everyone out of the room before walking around to the other side of the bed to fluff the pillow propping up Tommy's broken ankle. She had only managed a makeshift splint for it, and she wasn't quite sure if that would be enough. No matter how much Tommy tried to hide it, he really needed to go to a hospital, but they couldn't chance it.

"Tommy?" she said quietly. He glanced up at her with half-closed eyes.

"I'll think about it." He half-smiled in response before closing his eyes completely. She laid a gentle hand on the less sensitive part of his forehead to check his temperature, but he didn't seem to be developing a fever. She stroked a hand through his hair before leaving the room.

She was very pleased with this body's nurturing nature; in her usual form it was simply a job to treat the wounded and there was little to no emotional connection between her and the patient, whether it was one of her own men or someone she didn't know. In this body, however, Sally felt as though she was actually doing something important, that she _wanted _to as opposed to it being a necessity.

Wandering into the living room, she noted that everyone had found a spot and sat down, whether it was in a chair or on the floor. Everything was silent for a while apart from the droning dialogue emanating from the television. Alissa was carefully watching everyone's expressions, Dick was staring wide-eyed at the floor, Harry was watching Dick, Albright was looking at Sally questioningly, and Sally herself was trying to think of a strategy to counteract this unknown foe that had caused her fake nephew so much pain.

_"I can't stand it, Doctor, this suspense! Tell me what's on your mind and I'll try my best to prove to you that I can be strong and see the patient through!"_

"He should be in a hospital," Albright said into the relative quiet.

"I know, but we can't," Sally interjected. Alissa piped up.

"Why not?" Everyone was quiet. Sally didn't know how to answer without giving anything away.

"For certain reasons that you don't need to know," Sally said. Albright looked up at her.

"No, Alissa's got a point. Why can't he go to a hospital?"

"You saw! Don't you think people would get a bit suspicious?"

"No, I don't! Is that what you're worried about? The people at the hospital would be too appalled that someone would even think to do such a thing to start questioning if the reasoning behind it was valid," Albright explained. "They would simply think that person responsible was sick in the head and the notion that you're... y'know, wouldn't even cross their minds!" Sally thought this through as she glanced in Alissa's direction, evaluating the girl's reaction to what was just said. She looked completely and utterly confused. Good.

_"Oh, Doctor! Will the patient live?"_

"Well," Sally said, "then I guess he's going to the hospital."


End file.
